


Libiamo

by LydianNode



Series: A Life At the Opera [5]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Depression, Drinking, Gen, Language, M/M, alcohol use, suggestion of drug use, suggestion of mild sexual violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 08:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydianNode/pseuds/LydianNode
Summary: Freddie pours. Everyone else drinks.





	Libiamo

_Let's drink._

Freddie pours champagne with a liberal hand into the glasses of the many, many men who flock to his home in Munich. Paul invites them, Freddie pampers them. Freddie will take on one or two when the mood strikes, but Paul takes the rest of them. Takes and takes. 

_Let's drink._

Freddie pours his heart out into the songs he's writing, into recording with the band that should be so much easier to work with than Queen. The musicians are good. Obedient. Eager to please, egoless, pleasant. Yet it's dismal to work with them, the results as stale and flat as last night's champagne. Freddie tries a dozen times to call Brian and ask for input, only to have Paul interrupt him mid-dial with some tidbit of gossip or a messy, dirty kiss. 

_Let's drink._

Freddie pours tea for the blond young man he finds weeping in one of the guest bedrooms. Paul had slapped him during sex, had called him "Roger" while he did it. The young man hiccups his thanks as he sips the milky tea. Freddie tells Paul not to come back until he's prepared to apologise. Alone at last, he telephones Roger. The number doesn't work anymore and Freddie doesn't know how to find him. 

_Let's drink._

Freddie pours his lifeblood into the white handkerchief, thin droplets that grow more numerous every time he coughs. He wants to chalk it up to the cocaine Paul leaves out for him every night, but the blood isn't coming from his nostrils. Mary says he's burning the candle at both ends. Paul says...a lot of things, and Freddie knows none of them are true. He walks away into the rainy night and ends up in a bar to use the telephone. John. John will set him right with just a few words, the way he always does. But Freddie realizes with a pang that he never bothered to memorise his number. 

_Let's drink.  
_

*** 

_Let's drink.  
_

Jim Beach hears through the grapevine that Freddie is coming home. The phone call will come, sooner or later, so he meets Roger, Brian, and John for drinks in hopes of gauging their mood. 

_Let's drink.  
_

Roger turns up first, tanned and cocky in his designer clothes, high off the success of his solo album. He orders a neat whiskey and lingers at the bar so he can charm the young women. One of them asks the fatal question: "Is Queen getting back together again?" The cool-guy facade abruptly dissolves and the pain in Roger's eyes is palpable.

_Let's drink.  
_

Next to arrive is John. He carries photos of his growing brood to pass around. His drink is a vodka martini. Roger steals the olive with such a cheeky grin that John actually throws back his head and laughs. For a moment, Jim thinks things will turn out all right. When John catches Jim's eye, though, the laughter stops. Something like cold-fired anger flits across his face and he turns away. 

_Let's drink.  
_

Brian shuffles in. He's ridiculously thin, jeans hanging loosely off of his hips. He orders a gin and tonic in a raspy voice, as if he doesn't bother to speak very often. "Don't fucking touch the lime," he warns Roger, who lets out a nervous chuckle and rests his hand on the back of Brian's neck. 

_Let's drink.  
_

After a few sips, John leans forward with the drink held tightly in his hands. "So. Where is he?"

John is nothing if not direct. 

Roger moves his hand from Brian's neck and starts drumming his fingers on the table. Brian doesn't move. 

"He should be back by now, tomorrow at the latest." Jim drains his glass in one gulp, needs the liquid courage. "What do I tell him when he calls?" 

"Tell him to fuck off." Strong words from John, but his anger is different to the others', slow to kindle but difficult to extinguish. 

"Damn right," Roger agrees, a beat late. Brian raises his heavy-lidded gaze, glances at each of them in turn, then slowly, painfully nods once. 

Jim orders another round as his world collapses on him. 

_Let's drink._

**Author's Note:**

> I've started a Tumblr! Find me here: lydiannode.tumblr.com .


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